


Never Going Home

by calavon (retroxknight)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Deviant Connor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retroxknight/pseuds/calavon
Summary: Being free was never something Connor was used to. People used to tell him that his thoughts didn’t matter, and that he should remain on code no matter what the situation was, and should follow all orders given to him. But now, even after the deviants have won their freedom and rights, Connor can’t help but ask himself what it truly means to be free. He has a hard time thinking for himself, and needs the extra support to get him there.No one could really relate to his problems or what he’s been facing than another deviant. Who better to support him than the man who freed hundreds of his people in the first place?--In which Connor struggles to face his growing attachment to Markus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the good ending where nobody died, Connor became a deviant, and Markus successfully led the deviants to freedom.
> 
> Hi, so this is my first time posting to AO3! I love DBH and hope that you enjoy this. It starts off pretty platonic, and it starts off slow, but I assure that it's a gradual increase in speed. There is no set update day for this, but I'm suspecting it to be about two updates a week. This surely isn't going to be a long story, but there will be quite some reading! Please enjoy. ^^  
> //Update: Had to fix some grammatical errors, and will definitely continue to keep updating the chapters when I find errors.

Markus had come home alone to an empty house in the afternoon, when he heard a sudden knock at the door.

Markus had been sure he was able to evade the attention of the press or anyone who would have easily recognised him when he made his way home, and he was sure he kept his head low. He knew even that before the rebellion people in his area were not too fond of androids, but he couldn’t imagine how it would be now that androids are being considered on the same level as humans. He could just imagine the protests and people harassing deviants on the streets, barking and yelling that they stole their property, and how it was a disgrace to hold a robot even somewhere near the same level as a human being. Their acts and morals disgusted Markus, and made him feel ashamed.

Markus had to admit that he was relieved to be at home, even if he wasn’t prepared to be at home without Carl being there. He was still happy to be alone with his thoughts and have no immediate distractions, so of course when he heard a knock at the door he couldn’t help but feel like the world sent him a personal attack. He reeled himself in, remembering that he was a busy person, and of course people were going to want to see him occasionally. And who knew, it could be someone that he wanted to see, someone that he wanted to relax with, like North.

Someone like North. That thought stays in his mind.

The thought alone drives Markus to rise and set his pace for the door, albeit sluggishly. His growing hope for someone familiar at the door kept him going, but he came to a full halt when he heard who it was.

“This is Connor, the android sent--” the voice stops for a heartbeat. “This is Connor. Is Markus in there?”

Taken by surprise, Markus finds himself rushing towards the door. He opens the door just enough so that he could see Connor standing there, occasionally turning around to see if anyone just so happened to be watching. He was dressed up in a more casual outfit than his normal one, clearly trying to hide that he was an android, let alone a well known one. Markus spoke in a hurried, and hushed tone, “Connor, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I followed you,” Connor confessed. “And I need help.”

“But, how did you..?” Markus trails off, and even considers questioning him about it, but to save time he just opens the door and lets the other man slide inside of his home. “Come inside, we can discuss what you need to talk about here, where it’s safe.”

“Thank you, Markus.” Connor stares up at the grand house before him, examining the chandelier and unfamiliar structures within it, as Markus shuts the door behind the both of them. Connor comments on how nice the house is for a single deviant, and Markus says nothing in return. He only rushes the two of them towards the dining room area faster than he was before. Markus takes a seat, and Connor takes a seat beside him at the end of the table.

It’s quiet for a calm moment, Connor continues staring Markus up and down, as if him staring at him would clue him into understanding Markus without saying a single word. Markus can feel his eyes on him, shifts his position, and stares at his hands before he stares back up at Connor. Markus notes how Connor looks like he’s on edge, as if he were nervous about something. Markus can tell Connor’s whole self has taken a big shift from his normally stoic, do-no-wrong demeanor, to something more developed. He was in a conflicting state of mind that has been ever so changing since he became a deviant. Markus couldn’t help but feel bad for the man before him.

Connor seemed a bit frightened when Markus spoke; it broke Connor out of his lost state of mind. Markus approached him cautiously, “Connor, tell me. What do you need help with?”

Connor takes a moment to process what he was going to say, the circle embedded in his temple spinning a shining yellow color while his eyes flash left and right, “We have fought for the idea of being free, and while I appreciate our efforts and me being able to make my own choices, I can’t help but feel as if I don’t have a worth anymore. As if I don’t get this concept of being free.”

Markus looks taken aback by Connor’s powerful outlook on the situation, almost as if Markus was offended by it, “What do you mean by that?”

“Yes, we are all free now, but what does that mean for us? Sometimes I wonder what I really am supposed to do, and I feel lost without someone guiding me. I decided to consult you about this because I know you helped other deviants find their true self, and find out how to be free, and that is something I want to be. Can you help me?” Connor stared deep into Markus’ eyes, solidifying his desire to understand why things are the way they are. Markus found himself at a loss for words, trying to come up with the right things to say, the things that he knows Connor would want to hear. Connor helped Markus in the past free deviants, and he sacrificed a lot for Markus and the other’s. Markus couldn’t think of a more valid way to help Connor than to help him be truly free.

So Markus just decides on saying, “I am no expert in the field of us deviants, but being truly free is something you have to find the meaning out for yourself. Nobody, not even I or anybody else, can tell you how to live your life, because you living your life how you want to live it is the definition of being free.”

“I am trying my best to understand, but I am struggling.”

Markus’ eyebrows draw together, his mouth forming a slight frown. “Connor, I know you haven’t been a deviant for a long time--I know you haven’t been free for a long time, and while I am willing to help you find yourself, you have to understand that people aren’t going to be there to guide you for life. I can’t tell you how to be free and how to find your true self. It is a journey you have to go on yourself, because only you know who you really are.”

Connor could feel himself becoming tense by the second, the feeling of a slight tug in his chest that makes him feel a sudden onslaught of emotions. Connor hasn’t said a word since Markus started talking, and tried to ease his feeling by placing a hand on the table to brace himself.

Noticing the growing anxiety Connor seems to display, Markus slides his hand across the table to rest on top of Connor’s. “I know you,” Markus begins, the displayed skin on both of their hands fading away to reveal their white plating, the edges where their plating ends and the skin begins shining a bright blue. “We have all felt the same way you have felt before, even I have felt uncertain of my purpose. While I faced the same judgements other androids had to face, I was lucky enough that I had a kind human who helped me become...free in a way that I couldn’t quite describe. He told me the thing that was holding me back was me not being able to think for myself. Before, I was confused like you, where I didn’t know what I wanted. I know that you’re confused, that you don’t know what you want.”

Connor clenches his eyes closed, swearing that if he were an earlier version of himself that he would pull his hand away, but he doesn’t. Connor sits there not moving or saying a word. He can see glimpses of what Markus has gone through, and understands, but it makes him, in a way, afraid. Markus gives a small squeeze to Connor’s hand, trying to get the man to look at him, but Connor remains staring at the table. Markus decides to lead with a question instead, “Connor, what do you want?”

Connor’s eyes flicker, the circle that once glowed yellow was flashing back and forth between that and red. “I...I am not sure what I want.”

Markus holds his hand tighter, which finally draws in Connor’s attention, his eyes meeting Markus’ analytical ones. Markus tells him, “You do know what you want. There has to be something in there.”

There’s a shared moment of silence between the two of them, before Markus slowly moves his hand away to fold it together with his own on the table. Connor was sure he understood what he wanted now that he was free. He wanted a lot of things, he wanted Hank to be happy, he wanted to make sure he was being the best person to him that he could be. He wanted to matter to him, yet, in a way it makes him feel weak. This conversation he was having with Markus made him feel as if he was being read like a book, and he doesn’t want to be read. He feels vulnerable. Connor states one more time, “I don’t know what I want.”

Markus narrows his eye at Connor, studying him closely, before saying in a quiet tone, “Have you ever thought about who you really are, Connor?”

Connor’s voice is less straightforward than it usually was, and his head falls back down towards the tables, his eyes running along the lines of the surface. His voice comes out choked, “Yes, but I don’t know.”

“This growing feeling of uncertainty that you have can go away with time, Connor. We are free. You are free. You are being held back by yourself because you are uncertain of who you want to be. But with us being free, you get to make that choice. You get that chance to make mistakes and learn from them. You are free, Connor,” Markus places a hand on Connor’s shoulder, offering him a warm smile. “No one’s rushing you to make that choice.”

“But I don’t know what choice to make anymore. You see, when I was made I was told to act on code no matter what, following whatever program that I was given. I was told not to focus on what I wanted because it did not matter. There’s this human, Hank, he believes I can be something more than I was built to be. I want to believe what he tells me, but it’s hard for me to believe that it’s true.”

Markus wants to say something about his relationship with the human he mentioned, but he stops himself. Rather, he says, “Hey, follow me.” And rises up from his seat.

“Back before the rebellion happened I stayed with a human as well, he was like a father to me. The day everything changed for me, he had me make a painting. He said I could paint whatever I wanted, and insisted that I paint what my view of the world was.” Markus guided Connor throughout the house and towards the outside area, what Carl used to use as his workspace. His paintings remained in the same area as the last time they were when Markus had visited. It was relatively neat, but still looked aged. As much as Markus knew the place and could recognise the familiarity of it all, he couldn’t help but get the feeling of not belonging, or that something in the area was off.

Markus places a small, and a bit dirty, blank canvas on the easel in front of the both of them. Markus picks up a palette off of the counter and a dry paintbrush nearby it, and hands it to Connor. Markus gives him a faint smile, and takes a step back, “So, I think this would be a good first step for you.”

Connor stares blankly at the palette and canvas, then turns back to Markus, uncertain, “But I...I can’t paint.”

“Connor, that doesn’t matter. Painting isn’t about whether or not you can do it, it’s about how you do it. It’s about how you express your opinions and feelings,” Markus grabs a spare paintbrush and dabs it into the palette that Connor is holding, and makes a thin, dark blue streak across the center of the canvas. “See, it’s that easy. That streak can mean anything. Now, continue the drawing.”

“How would I continue it?”

“Make anything out of it. Make it something that you feel.”

Connor takes a deep breath, and hesitantly begins painting whatever crosses his mind. The canvas is mostly painted in dark, cool colors that consists of deep blues and indigos, with dashed of black. Connor can tell Markus is studying the way he’s painting, and Connor gets the urge to ask if he’s doing it right, but suppresses it. He can feel himself tensing up even more, the delay between each brush stroke getting longer and longer till he fully stops himself to step back and proclaim, “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t think of how I’m feeling, and even if I do, whatever I put on the canvas makes it turn into a mess.”

Markus’ eyebrows fall, and his mouth curves into a slight frown, “Connor, I can tell that something is holding you back, and you need to try and let that go. You can try and let it go in the form of art, you can try and express how you’re really feeling. This confusion, confliction, all these feelings that you are feeling you can interpret it.”

“Am I even doing it right?”

“Connor,” Markus says within a sigh, “There is no right way to do art.”

“I am trying my best.”

“Listen,” Markus says, gently pushing Connor away from the easel with his hand. “Art is all about the self and the mind. Try and delve deep into that part of yourself that you try to hide, try and let that part of yourself come out through your artwork. Let loose.”

Connor turns back to face the canvas, unsure of himself. He looks back at Markus over his shoulder for reassurance, and continues on when he gets a nod from Markus in return. 

Connor begins to continue the painting. There’s not much too it at first, only what seems like a black void with speckles and dots of a shimmering teal once in a while. Markus starts to appreciate his efforts a bit more once Connor paints a teal silhouette in the bottom center of the painting, and brings in a bright golden color at the center of the figure. He surrounds the figure in clutters of golden dots, representing a shining lights. It’s only until Connor steps back when he realizes he’s finally finished his painting.

It’s a bit rough around the edges, colors bleeding into other colors, making it look more childlike and unprofessional, but Markus thinks that it makes it look even more authentic.

Markus can’t help but give a smile, “See, you were able to do it. Now, I’m not sure what it all means, but that isn’t important. As long as it means something to you, then it’s a beautiful piece.”

“Yes, it is,” Connor agrees under his breath. “I like this idea of painting a lot. Did your old owner teach you how to paint?”

“It was more of a one time thing. Of course I was there to watch him paint and tend to his needs, but I’d never consider myself an experienced panter like he was.”

“And,” Connor approaches very cautiously. “What happened to your owner?”

“He…” Markus looks up towards Carl’s old paintings that remain hung, and towards the larger one that he never got around to finishing. “He passed away due to old age.”

Connor is quiet, he takes a step back and stares at Markus. Markus continues, “He told me he wanted me to express myself, that he wanted me to put myself onto the paintings, and show how I had really viewed the world. I have only made one painting in my time spent with him, but that one painting itself helped me become more aware of myself and my feelings. It was a small thing to do, but it was the start of something big.”

“I see”, is all Connor can think of to say at the moment.

There is an awkward silence that washes over the two of them for a moment, like someone should be talking or speaking, but no one says anything for a while. “You know,” Markus breaks the silence. “Sometimes out there it can get chaotic, but whenever I’m here in this house, or out here in this area, I feel at peace.”

Markus fully turns to face Connor, meeting the other man’s eyes. They stare at each for another quiet moment before Markus decides to continue, “Sometimes you can feel confused, and feel as if you need somewhere to be stable. And when you feel that, you can come here. Fore I am not a foe, and nor do I want to be a stranger. You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you, Markus.” There is another wave of silence before Markus decides to lead Connor to the door and parts ways. Markus wouldn’t admit to himself that he wanted Connor to come back sometime soon, but in a way he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving markus' home, Hank comes to pick up Connor and situations ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this chapter focuses more on Hank and Connor, and how Connor is feeling. I'm really happy some of you are enjoying this, I was very nervous to post at first but I am warming up. :]

Connor could tell he was improving since the last time he visited Markus.

At first, Connor was hesitant to return to Markus’ home; he knew that Markus was fine with his company, but didn’t want to add to the stress Markus had at same the time. Especially the stress involving public opinion. But the thought in the back of Connor’s mind that told him Markus was fine with him returning, kept pushing Connor on. So Connor bit back all those thoughts he had, and reluctantly joined him for another painting session.

Connor took a step back to examine the painting he just completed. Markus was right, Connor thought to himself. Sometimes it felt as if his hand was moving without him being aware of it. The pictures that he painted often felt foreign to him, almost hard for him to comprehend. As of the moment, all Connor could make out of the painting in front of him was a gradient from black to light blue, with faint specks of white, cluttered where the light blue reached the edge of the paper. There was a light blue hand reaching towards black hand, both at opposite sides of the canvas. What could it mean?

“You know,” Markus begins, crossing his arms and examining the painting. “I really think you’re getting the hang of this.”

Connor simply nods in reply.

“I can really see the improvement from the last time you painted. Have you been trying it on your own?”

Connor puts down the palette and brush that were in his hands. “I’ve considered trying it, but haven’t found the time to. Work has been keeping me very busy, and I assume the same for you. Anyway. I’ve also been considering what we discussed the first time I came here.”

“Uh huh,” Markus removes Connor’s painting from the easel, and sets it on top of the one Connor previously painted. “Well,” Markus continues. “I’m glad you’ve been thinking about it. If I’m being honest here, I’ve been thinking about it too. Most of the time when people become aware, they have no real troubles. Or at least none that I’m aware of. But with you, it’s just...it’s just different. I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but I hope you know what I mean.”

Even though Connor doesn’t really understand what Markus is trying to tell him, he just decides to say, “Well, thank you, Markus.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m glad you’re alright with coming to me for help.”

The two of them exit the art studio, and make their way through the house and towards the front door. Markus continues, “But, I’m going to be pretty busy the next few days. There have been...unwanted events taking place due to the uprising.”

Not being able to see Markus makes Connor feel a bit nervous, but it’s nothing stopping him. “I know. We have had many cases on it. WIth that being sad, I am still looking forward to the next time we can meet.”

“As am I. Good luck, Connor.” Markus agrees, opening the door for Connor. The two say their goodbyes, then Markus sees Connor out.

\- - -

Connor can’t remember how long he’s been standing out by the street. It was hard to avoid the attention of people walking or driving by in their cars. And as much as he tried to hide it, it did make him feel a bit “open” in a way that he didn’t like.

After what feels like a millennia, Hank’s car finally pulls down the road and up the driveway. Hank rolls down the passenger side window, and Connor leans in to speak with him. “You’re late, lieutenant.”

“I know, I know,” Hank repeats, slumping down further in his seat. His eyes stay fixated on the driveway in front of them, often glancing up to the house, and towards Connor. Connor’s a bit confused as to why Hank’s very alert, but tries not to pay too much attention to it. After some time, Hank barks at Connor, “Would ya’ stop starin’ at me and just get in the car already, Connor!”

When Connor gets in the passenger seat, he can’t help but feel as if something is off with the atmosphere. Hank hasn’t said a word yet, and the car hasn’t left the driveway. Thus, Connor decides to say something. “Hank, is everything alright--”

“Hey, who’s house is this?” Hank interrupts, finally pulling the car out of the driveway.

“It’s Markus’.”

“Isn’t Markus that one deviant? You know, the revolutionist or...or whatever.”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“And why were you in there?”

Connor takes a moment to process what he’s going to say. Connor blankly states, “You see, I have my own problems that I have to deal with, Hank.” Connor can see Hank flinch at his comment, and even regrets saying it that way, but Hank continues driving anyway. He’s quiet. They’re both quiet. It’s making Connor feel a bit on edge with the growing tension.

Hank clears his throat, his voice coming out a bit more calmly than his usual one, “Is everything alright, Connor? You seem a bit...off.”

At that moment, Connor considered spilling his mind to Hank, considered asking for advice on his problems and feelings, but he decides not to. It’s not like Hank would really be able to understand him. He was an android, and Hank was a human. That was their biggest barrier, and as much as Connor knows Hank would try and sympathize with him, there’s some that he wouldn’t be able to relate to. “I have been feeling a bit off, but I can assure you that I am fine.”

The only real thing Connor was totally sure of, was that Hank wasn’t believing him. “Y’know,” Hank pauses to take a right turn down the street. “If you’ve got a problem with somethin’, then you can always come to me about it. I know I haven’t been the easiest guy to talk to in the past, but I still care.”

“Thank you, Hank. But my problems are android problems.”

“I can never understand you guys,” Hank mumbles under his breath, suddenly taking a U-turn. “God, I need a drink.”

“But, Hank, we should be going to work, not going to bars.”

“Work can wait.”

The rest of the car ride is silent between the two of them. Mellow jazz music plays through the radio of the car, and the faint sounds of rain tapping against the car window and top of the car fill Connor’s ears. Their surroundings and everything in it pass in a blur, reminding Connor of how active Detroit really is. The length of the car ride also reminds him of how far away he is from Markus’ location.

Connor was so lost in thought that when they do arrive at the bar, Hank has to call out his name to get his attention. “Connor! God. We’re here.”

“Sorry, Hank. I was just...thinking.” Connor exits the car, and follows Hank towards the entrance of the bar.

The poster in the center of the bar door reads “No Androids Allowed”, which makes Connor halt at the entrance. Hank turns to face Connor and shakes his head, continuing to open the door for Connor to enter first and Hank to follow. Hank reminds him, “If they didn’t stop you before, they wouldn’t stop you now.”

Connor doesn’t agree, but decides not to say anything about it.

When Connor steps into the bar, it feels as if all the attention is brought onto him. Surprisingly, some people don’t make as big of a fuss about it as others do. Some simply turn to glance at him for a single moment, and quickly return to their drinks or the person beside them. But besides that small amount of people, there are some who throw him mean looks and say something under their breath about why they even would allow him in here. Connor can’t say he’s disappointed though. It’s what he had expected from them, and if not, it’s better than that. Connor knew all about the riots breaking out due to the android movement. He’s seen it all before, and is constantly reminded of it with all the new cases ammerging lately. It’s nice to see some more calmer humans.

Or at least he thought.

The second Connor finally was able to adjust to being in the bar, the bartender leaves from behind the counter to approach Connor.

“Uh-uh-uh, big guy. No androids allowed in here.” The bartender tells Hank, abruptly shoving Connor back towards the door. “They have places outside where you can park them.”

Hank tries to stand between the bartender and Connor, raising an arm to divide the two of them. “Woah there, slow down. What’s this all about? Haven’t you heard the news?”

“You read the sign outside the bar. You can’t have those things in here. And until the government, or whatever, comes in here and single-handedly makes me take down my sign then it’s not going anywhere.”

“But they’ve made rules, and you’re expected to follow them.”

“Huh, times don’t change that fast, buddy,” the bartender narrows his eyes at Hank, and Hank returns the stare. “Listen, there’s a lot of drama going down right now between the humans and the deviants right now. It ain’t good for my business if people see that I allow them things in here. I’d be losing a lot of customers here, and if they did come there would be fist-fights.I don’t need that kinda stuff in here. Now leave.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what a fist-fight is.” Hank shoves the bartender back, but is stopped when Connor places a hand on his shoulder.

“Hank. It’s best if we leave. Some people don’t like my presence, and I get that. So let’s just leave.”

Hank scowls. “Y’know what. Fuck you, and fuck this bar. C’mon, Connor. Let’s...let’s get out of this place. It’s shit anyway.”

“Whatever you want, Lieutenant.”

Connor follows Hank out the door, where the two of them take a seat on the curb outside, behind Hank’s car. “I--” Hank begins, but cuts himself off. He sits for a moment, folding his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry, Connor. I didn’t know those bastards would act like that. I thought that things were changing.”

“It’s alright, Hank. I’m fine.” Connor insists. He has to admit that it wasn’t anything that he wasn’t used to by now. He’s learned to get used to it, used to being different So what difference did it make now?

“It’s not fine. Those fuckers. They can screw off. Yeah.” Hank rambles on, kicking his foot at the pavement of the road, letting his head hang low. “Wastin’ my time, and sendin’ us out. Where are we gonna go now?”

“There are many other bars within our area, Hank. It is not impossible to find another one.” Connor reminds him, his eye darting between Hank and the ground.

Hank pauses, staring Connor in the eyes. “Can you even drink?”

“No.”

Hank groans, resting his head in the palm of his hands. “Jesus. How is it being an android? Is it hard?”

“I have my own personal opinions and experiences with being an android. Some people I have met have had a harder life than I have, and have had more difficult experiences than me. So it is hard for me to speak for everyone.”

“Earlier, when you said you have your own problems...what are they?”

“It’s…” Connor begins, already starting to lose focus and trail off. “It’s hard for me to say directly.”

“Could ya’ try and explain it, I guess?”

“Well...I have just been confused about a lot of things. There are things about myself that I am having a hard time fully understanding.”

“Is that why you were at that Markus guys place?” Hank looks worried, shifting his position and fixing himself upright. “What were you even doing there?”

“We were talking about things. Things that would help me understand myself more.” Connor stares intently at the ground, his LED processor flashing a bright yellow. “Yet, I feel as if his attempts are not working on me. He has helped so many androids become more aware of themself, and I expected him to be able to help me understand myself as fast as they did as well. But I was wrong. He showed me his memories. I saw and felt everything, yet I am still unsure if we fully understand each other. I’m just not sure if I really am fixable.”

Connor pauses once more, expecting Hank to say something, but he doesn't. Connor decides to continue, “It made me feel dumb. It made me feel like I shouldn’t be free, and maybe it’s better when I’m being told what to do. I appreciate the efforts that he makes to help me feel like somebody real, but I think I might give up. Maybe I should try something new.”

“What did you even try when you were there?”

“He tried to show me how to paint.”

“He tried to show you how to what?” Hank seems a bit surprised. “Painting? What kind of dumb shit is that. I thought he was some sort of wise revolutionist or...or whatever the media has been potrayin’ him as lately.”

“No, Hank. It’s actually helpful, and he is wise! Painting makes me think about a lot of things that I wouldn’t have thought of. Sometimes, when I’m painting it feels calm. It makes me feel relaxed, and puts me at ease. There’s a lot I can interpret on the canvas, and sometimes not even I can understand my own paintings.”

“Oh, geez. Don't tell me you’re getting all soft on me!”

“I ensure you that I am not “soft”, Hank. And yes, sometimes painting can be a confusing activity to me. But he tells me a lot of confusing things, and makes me do confusing things.”

“He’s not...he’s not touchin’ you right? Like…” Hank makes a groping motion with his hands. “Y’know?”

“I do now know. What do you mean?”

“Ah, forget it!” Hank dismisses it and rises to his feet. He sucks in a sharp break and shakes his head, making his way to the drivers side of his car. “Well. Just remember, Connor; you shouldn’t give up that easily. You’re stronger than that Connor, and you and I know damn well you’ve been through a hell of a lot worse than this. Besides, if you’re worried about fitting in and being yourself , I can always help you be a little bit more human than you were.” As Connor rises to his feet, Hank gives him a goofy grin.

“Thank you, lieutenant.” And in return, Connor gives a shy smile.


End file.
